She imagined all the times he had swallowed his pride because his family depended on his paycheck.
The thought hurt more than the coffee soaking through her shirt.
Around her, employees stood motionless.
Patricia had just emerged from the service corridor.
She covered her mouth.
Emily stood behind the reception desk, visibly trembling.
Thomas, the security guard, took one step forward.
Then stopped.
Keller pointed again.
"Well? What are you waiting for?"
Naomi slowly looked up.
Her voice was quiet.
"Careful, Mr. Keller. You're saying more than you realize."
Keller stared at her.
Then he laughed.
"Don't flatter yourself. You clean bathrooms. I run this place."
Naomi rose to her feet.
A paper napkin slipped from her shoulder.
She brushed it away.
Then looked directly into his eyes.
"For the next few minutes, maybe."
The words hung in the air.
Keller's expression changed.
"What did you say?"
Naomi did not answer immediately.
Instead, she looked toward the reception desk.
"Emily, would you please contact the executive conference room?"
Emily blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Tell them Naomi Carter is ready."
Keller burst into laughter.
"Naomi Carter is ready?"
He looked at the managers beside him.
"Ready for what? Another trash can?"
Naomi reached into her pocket.
She removed a small phone.
Then pressed a contact.
"Jonathan, please come downstairs."
Keller stepped closer.
"Who do you think you're calling?"
"Someone you were expecting this afternoon."
He frowned.
"What?"
Naomi slipped the phone away.
"You have a board meeting scheduled for eleven o'clock."
Keller's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I requested it."
For the first time that morning, he said nothing.
Then his face hardened.
"Security!"
Thomas approached.
"Yes, sir?"
"Remove this woman."
Thomas hesitated.
Naomi looked at him.
"It's all right, Thomas."
Keller turned sharply.
"Don't tell my security staff what to do!"
Thomas glanced toward the entrance.
A group of people had just entered the lobby.
At the front walked Jonathan Mercer.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried a black leather portfolio.
Beside him were two attorneys, a senior compliance officer, and Margaret Ellison, the independent chair of Westbridge's board.
Keller recognized Margaret immediately.
His anger gave way to confusion.
"Margaret?"
She did not answer.
Her eyes moved from the garbage on the floor to Naomi's stained uniform.
Then to Keller.
"What happened here?"
Keller straightened his jacket.
"Just a minor personnel issue."
Margaret looked at the overturned trash bin.
"A personnel issue?"
"An employee was being insubordinate."
Naomi remained silent.
Jonathan stepped forward.
"Ms. Carter, are you all right?"
Keller looked between them.
"You know her?"
Jonathan's expression was grave.
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you can explain why she's creating a disturbance in my lobby."
Margaret took a slow breath.
"Richard, I strongly suggest you stop talking."
Keller stared at her.
"Excuse me?"
Jonathan opened his portfolio.
"Mr. Keller, my name is Jonathan Mercer. I represent Whitmore Holdings."
Keller's posture changed instantly.
He forced a smile.
"Of course. We've been expecting you."
Jonathan did not return the smile.
"As you know, Whitmore Holdings now controls a majority of Westbridge International's voting shares."
"Yes, yes. We're looking forward to a productive relationship."
Jonathan turned slightly toward Naomi.
"Then allow me to introduce the person authorized to exercise that controlling interest."
Keller waited.
Jonathan gestured toward the young woman in the stained brown uniform.
"Ms. Naomi Carter."
Silence.
Keller blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then laughed nervously.
"I'm sorry?"
"Naomi Carter is the controlling owner of Whitmore Holdings."
Keller looked at Naomi.
Then at Jonathan.
Then back at Naomi.
"That's impossible."
Margaret stepped forward.
"It has been verified by our legal team, our auditors, and the board."
Keller shook his head.
"No. There's been some mistake."
Naomi looked at him.
"There hasn't."
His eyes moved to the coffee stain on her vest.
To the discarded food wrappers around her feet.
To the gray trash bin lying beside the wall.
The color drained from his face.
"You?"
Naomi nodded.
"Me."
"But you're—"
"A cleaning worker?"
He swallowed.
Naomi continued.
"That's what you believed."
Keller looked toward Margaret.
"This is some kind of setup."
"No," Margaret replied. "This is the consequence of your own behavior."
He shook his head more violently.
"You don't understand. She was provoking me."
Naomi looked at the garbage.
"By cleaning the floor?"
Keller opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.